Sunday Afternoon
by Serenade
Summary: A light and playful piece about how Touya and Yukito spend the weekend.


SUNDAY AFTERNOON  
  
a Card Captor Sakura fanfic  
  
by Serenade  
  
  
With many thanks to Natalie, Leareth and Carrot-san for beta-reading and advice.  
  
Insert standard disclaimer here.  
  
*****  
  
They were lying on the bedroom floor together, textbooks spread open in front of them. The sun against the window cast a warm rectangle of light into the room. Not a cloud shadowed the lazy blue sky, and the near-empty house was enveloped in a relaxed silence.  
  
Touya lay propped up on one elbow, trying to concentrate on a particularly stubborn calculus problem. He could hear the gentle scritch of a pencil across from him as Yukito worked. Pushing an errant lock of hair away from his eyes, he stared down at the densely printed page. The symbols before him seemed to writhe like snakes. Touya sighed and rubbed his weary eyes.  
  
He sensed a sudden presence on his right, and looked up to find Yukito settling next to him. "It gets repetitive, ne?" Yukito said. "Maybe we should take a break."  
  
Touya grunted in assent, tossing his pencil down. "Are you feeling hungry? I can make us a snack."  
  
Yukito tilted his head and smiled. "That would be very nice, To-ya."  
  
*****  
  
They sat in the kitchen, munching on pancakes and sucking down frothy chocolate milkshakes. Yukito's impressive appetite was undiminished - he devoured half a plate in two minutes. Touya liked watching him eat, happily absorbed and totally unselfconscious. Yukito ate with joyous abandon, as if each bite were the most delicious he had ever tasted. Despite his enthusiasm, however, Yukito managed to be astoundingly neat. Touya didn't even have the opportunity to casually brush sticky crumbs from Yukito's face.  
  
"You know," Yukito announced, glancing slyly at him, "someone's going to marry you just for your cooking."  
  
"Shut up already," Touya growled. He attempted a severe frown and bent his head over his plate, allowing his dark hair to screen his eyes from view. He speared a fragment of pancake with his fork and pushed it into a small puddle of honey.  
  
"Your hair's getting long, To-ya." Yukito's slim fingers reached out to stroke a loose strand.  
  
"No chance to do anything about it yet," Touya said, glancing up through his bangs. He did not move his head away. "Been too busy with work."  
  
Yukito met his gaze with wide, unblinking eyes. "Sometimes I used to cut my grandmother's hair for her. Would you like me to do yours?"  
  
They stared at each other for a long moment. Touya flashed on the sensation of slim phantom fingers being drawn through his hair, tracing their way lightly across his scalp.  
  
"Sure," he said, with hardly a pause.  
  
Yukito only slid a sideways smile at him.  
  
*****  
  
The steady scissoring of the blades broke the afternoon stillness. Occasionally there was the touch of cold metal against the back of Touya's neck. Drifts of hair fell past his nose to land on the white sheet draping him. He shifted in the kitchen chair, trying to dislodge some strands that had fallen down his collar.  
  
"Don't move, To-ya, or it'll be crooked."  
  
"I can't help it," he muttered. "It feels funny."  
  
"Don't tell me you're ticklish."  
  
"Of course not - Yuki, stop that!"  
  
"Stop what?" Yukito asked innocently, his warm breath whispering against Touya's ear.  
  
Touya twisted his head away, mostly to conceal the grin stealing across his face quite treacherously. Yukito must have heard a trace of it in his voice anyway.  
  
"To-ya is afraid his weakness will be revealed!"  
  
"I'm not afraid," Touya said, glaring at Yukito. "And anyway - I'll bet Yuki's ticklish too!"  
  
He surged out of the chair with his arms outstretched. Yukito, perhaps reading the menace in his eyes, fled backwards into the yard with a small shriek. Touya savoured the look of alarm on Yukito's face for perhaps all of five seconds. Then his feet became entangled in the sheet he wore and he fell forward like a toppling statue.  
  
They crashed together onto the sun-warmed lawn, strands of fine, dark hair floating slowly to the ground all around them. "Mmph," Touya said, struggling to disentangle himself and stand. He managed to roll over and began trying to unwind the sheet from around his legs. He heard Yukito laughing softly next to him.  
  
"You could give me a hand," Touya said crossly.  
  
Yukito sat up and turned to face him. "Like this?" he asked, laying his palm flat against Touya's chest. Without waiting for a reply, he traced his fingers delicately down Touya's ribs - and then beyond.  
  
Touya had time for one outraged gasp before he doubled over in helpless convulsions. Yukito was ruthless, his agile fingers seeking and finding Touya's most sensitive, most vulnerable, most *ticklish* spots. Touya could hardly draw breath amid this onslaught.  
  
He reached out blindly, trying to seize hold of Yukito's hands. He found one and grasped it firmly, ignoring Yukito's surprised protest. It was easy then to close on the other, trapping that narrow wrist within the circle of his own fingers.  
  
"Hah," Touya breathed, pinning his tormentor to the grass. "What do you have to say for yourself now?"  
  
Yukito smiled up at him beatifically. "I haven't finished your haircut, To-ya."  
  
Touya wasn't swayed by Yukito's innocent demeanour. He leaned close and whispered, "It can wait." He smiled wolfishly as he moved in.  
  
Yukito *was* ticklish after all.  
  
*****  
  
They lay on the grass together, the sheet now partially wrapping them. The afternoon sun warmed the air into honeyed heaviness. Only the whirr of cicadas disturbed the rich silence.  
  
Touya lay with his head against Yukito's shoulder, gazing up at the airbrushed sky. He could hear the regular rhythms of the other boy's breathing, comforting and familiar. They were floating in a moment of perfect ease and intimacy.  
  
*I don't need anything else. This is all of paradise.*  
  
He was on the edge of drifting off when he felt the gentle pressure of fingers on his shoulder. "I should finish cutting your hair. Sakura will be home soon."  
  
Touya nodded, pushing himself to a sitting position. "Yeah, we'd better finish that up." He scooped up his crumpled shirt and slid it back on. Yukito was running his fingers through his own dishevelled hair. Touya eyed him speculatively, a suggestive glint lighting up his gaze.  
  
"You know, afterwards - I should maybe do yours."  
  
"Ah," Yukito said softly, and smiled. "I think I would like that very much, To-ya."  
  
  
- fin -  
  



End file.
